


Stop Pining

by ShibaScarf



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Ghosts, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShibaScarf/pseuds/ShibaScarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tribute to Boostlethons of yore.</p>
<p>Ted goes on a little journey with the Ghosts of Beetles Past, Present, and Future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Pining

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a few months now and I'm so tired of looking at it, and I'm really relieved it got done in time for Christmas.  
> Here's a little something in honor of all the Christmas themed Boostle fics that Boostlethon inspired. Wish I could have been around in the fandom for those.  
> Shout out to my cheerleader Sofa.

                Ted was not in the Christmas spirit.  Of course, being Jewish, he never really considered Christmas a holiday that he needed to participate in, but he nonetheless generally found himself enjoying the comradery and good will of the season.  This was not the case this Christmas Eve.

                The day had gone poorly almost from the beginning.  He stubbed his toe rather painfully on his way to bathroom this morning, and his razor was beginning to dull (and of course he was out of new blades), so he had cut himself and had to stick little pieces of tissue to his face to stem the bleeding, which always made him feel like he was fourteen and just learning how to shave himself.  He had thought he had removed all of the pieces, but apparently he’d forgotten one, which no one pointed out to him until after he passed at least fifteen of his employees on the way to his office.

                Most upsetting, though perhaps somewhat childish of him, he was sulking because the secretary had bought a new blend of coffee for everyone today in the name of Christmas spirit.  It was some kind of cinnamon or pumpkin spice blend, but she had completely forgotten to bring an alternative for anyone who didn't want it.  Ted wasn't picky about a lot of things, but his coffee?

In the end, he had shrugged on his coat to walk down to the nearest acceptable coffee shop, which was thirteen blocks away in the frigid Chicago air.  He pouted every step of the way there and back, almost reveling in his bad mood and feeling his frustration build. 

                This was why it was especially bad timing for Booster to call just as he had returned to his desk, nose still numb and fingers burning unpleasantly as the feeling slowly came back to them.

                "Hey bud," Booster said, in response to the dull grunt Ted gave as a greeting.  "Hope you're ready for tonight.  I rented 'Killer Clowns from Outer Space', but I think we might have seen it already before?   Thought I'd call and check, just to make sure I don't have to run back out to the video store."

                "Um, no, I don't think we have," Ted said, massaging his temple with one hand and picking up his coffee with the other to take a sip as he balanced his phone on between his neck and shoulder.  The coffee had cooled significantly on the walk back, he noted with irritation.  "I don't know about tonight, Booster.  I'm having a really shitty day."

                "What?" Booster said indignantly.  "Ted, this is tradition!  It's a Christmas tradition!"

                "I'm Jewish," Ted said tiredly.  "I don't give a rat's ass about Christmas.  If I want to sit Christmas out, I'm more than entitled to."

                "A Blue and Gold tradition, then," Booster whined, and Ted could hear something clattering in the background.  "Look, what am I gonna do with all these sugar cookies?  Who's going to bite the head off of all the Guy Gardner shaped ones?  I can't eat all these and the Superman ones too."

                "You baked cookies?" Ted asked in surprise.  "Since when do you bake?"

                "Since whenever the hell I feel like it," Booster said, "and stop changing the subject.  C'mon, you can't skip out on our Christmas Eve marathon.  I've got three terrible B movies sitting here with our names on them."

                It was standard that Ted spend Christmas Eve with Booster, watching a B Movie marathon.  They usually ordered a pizza (soy cheese on one half for Booster) and drank beer together.  It was always something that Ted looked forward to, but today he was in a foul mood and nothing sounded good.

                "Look, Booster," Ted said, giving up on his lukewarm coffee and pushing it away from him to the edge of his desk.  "I'm just tired.   We're not in our twenties anymore, you know?  Maybe we should stop acting like kids all the time."

                "This is stupid," Booster said.  "Are you seriously telling me that you're canceling on me tonight?  What else are you going to do on Christmas Eve?"

                "The same thing I do every night, Pinkie," Ted said, hoping to maybe assuage Booster with some humor. 

                "Fine," Booster said, after a moment of sullen silence.  Ted could almost picture his face, eyebrows scrunched and lips pursing.  "It's fine.  I'll just watch 'Killer Clowns' by myself then."

                "I'll buy you a couple of beers later this week, promise," Ted said, the guilt now hitting him.  "We can go out to a bar or something.  Maybe find you a date to flaunt in front of the tabloids.  I'm just not in the mood tonight."  At this, Booster let out a hollow sounding 'ha'.  "No, seriously.  It's been a terrible day, and I just need to do some work for a few hours and then sleep it off."

                "Two words for you, Ted," Booster said.  "Bah. Humbug.  Call me back when you're discovered the true meaning of Christmas- shitty movies with your best friend in the whole world."

                "Scrooge's best friend was dead in that story," Ted pointed out.  "You're just _brain-dead_.  Look, I gotta go.  I'll see you later this week, okay?"

                He hung up the phone and stared at his coffee cup for a moment, ruminating.  It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of spending time with Booster tonight, but being around him was equal parts fun and frustrating as of late.  Booster had recently broken up with one of his magazine-fodder girlfriends and was still moping about how she had managed to spin the story of their breakup in a way that didn't suit his heroic image.  The whining was one thing, but it was especially frustrating to hear about Booster's love life and come face to face with the utter futility of Ted's feelings for him.  The last thing Ted needed after a day like this was to remind himself of how pathetic he was.

                He scowled at his coffee and picked it up, heading for the microwave in the office kitchenette.  Booster would get over it.  Maybe he could call up his ex and rekindle that flame, Ted mused bitterly.

\--------------------------- 

                Though nothing catastrophic happened, the rest of Ted's day failed to lift his mood in any way.  By the time he got home, it was 5:00 and already dark outside.  He toed his shoes off at the door, shedding his coat and scarf and hanging them on a nearby chair.  Opening his fridge, he stared forlornly at the health food inside before grabbing a cup of yogurt and settling in front of the TV in his favorite recliner.  He flipped past channels of Christmas special after Christmas special and finally decided to put on a station that was only airing infomercials in a resigned attempt to avoid any more reminders of the holiday.  By the soft glow of commercialism, he noted that the yogurt lid showed that it was a few days past the expiration date.  He decided he didn't care and dug into it anyway, food poisoning be damned.  It tasted fine, anyway.

                About a half an hour later, he found himself slipping quietly to sleep to the sounds of droning sales pitches and housewife testimonials.

\---------------------------

                He woke up to the sound of static.  Bleary eyed, he squinted in front of him and saw that his TV was now only spitting out white noise.  He took a moment, staring at it in shock.

                "That... shouldn't be happening," he finally said aloud.  "A digital television signal shouldn't get static."

                “Sorry about that,” said a familiar voice, and Ted turned, startled, to look at the woman sitting in the armchair across beside the couch.

                “Tora?” Ted gasped.  “It can’t be, you’re-“

                “Dead,” Tora said, nodding gently and smiling that sweet, sad smile that Ted had thought he’d never see again.   She was wearing a simple white sundress, and her hands were clasped in her lap.  Two thick metal bracelets were around her wrists, and silvery translucent chains extended from each, snaking out and away until they could no longer be seen.   Ted realized he could see the pattern of the upholstery behind her through her less than opaque skin.  He suddenly felt nauseous.

                “I’m never eating expired yogurt again,” he wheezed, bending over to put his head between his knees.  “Oh my god.  Never again.”  He could still hear the static of the television in the background and a soft clinking sound as Tora ( _just a hallucination, just a hallucination_ ) knelt in front of him.

                “Oh, Ted, I’m sorry,” she said again.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.  I just came to give you a warning.”

                Ted really didn’t want to look up, but he did.  Tora looked back at him, her eyes frosted over and yet still conveying such warmth and kindness.  She reached out and put a hand on his, and Ted was surprised to find her solid to the touch.  Her hands…

                “Your hands always were just like ice,” Ted murmured.  “Bea used to say you could be stranded in the Sahara and still need a pair of mittens.”

                Tora laughed gently and withdrew her hand.

                “You certainly don’t want to know what Guy said about my cold feet,” she said mischievously, standing up and moving to sit next to Ted on the sofa.

                “I really don’t,” Ted agreed faintly.  “Tora, what’s going on?  You want to warn me?  About what?  Is there some kind of danger on the horizon?  Do I need to call the League?”

                “Nothing as catastrophic as the fate of the world,” Tora said, shaking her head.  “I’m here because I’ve managed to pull a few strings for you.  Turns out being a goddess has some perks in the afterlife, even if I am still bound to Earth.”

                “That doesn’t make sense to me,” Ted said, shaking his head.  “Tora, of all the people I know that died?  You’re meant to be in Heaven.  If you’re not in Heaven, it doesn’t exist.”

                “It’s not that simple,” Tora said, brandishing her wrists and shaking her chains.  They didn’t make a rattling sound, but a soft tinkling whisper, almost like leaves blowing in the wind.  “I’m bound to Earth by regrets, Ted.  Things I said, things I did…. And of course, the things I didn’t say or do.  Those most of all.”

                “Is there anything I can do to-“ Ted began to ask, but Tora put an icy finger to his lips and shook her head.

                “What’s done is done, Ted.  I’m here now, and I’ll be here until the people I’ve tied myself to have moved on from this life.”  Tora moved her hand to softly cup one side of Ted’s face.  “Ted.  I’m in front of you tonight because you’re on the path to the same fate.  You’re building your own chains, link by link.  You can’t see them, but I can.  I don’t want this for you, Ted.  You deserve happiness.”

                Ted shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Tora’s words or her frigid touch.

                “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

                “You will have three more visitors tonight,” Tora told him.  “You will be offered a chance to change the direction of your course.  From here, things are out of my hands.”

                She leaned forward and kissed Ted on the forehead.

                The world went black.

\----------

                Ted awoke with a start and a gasp for breath, heart pounding.   One hand on his chest, he sat forward and tried to breathe slowly.

                He was still in his apartment, seated on the sofa.  The television was off now, leaving him only the pale light from the window to see with.  Eerily pale beams poured in from outside, the moonlight looking especially ethereal from the snow’s reflection.

                “What time is it?” Ted wondered aloud.  With the sun setting so early at this time of year, he couldn’t really gauge how long he’d been asleep.

                “Always did wish this get-up came with a watch,” someone answered him, and Ted was somehow only a little surprised to turn and find Dan Garrett leaning over the back of the couch.

                They stared at each other for a moment, Dan looking just as odd as ever in his full Blue Beetle gear, something that Ted had really only seen in person a few times anyway.

                “Dan,” Ted said finally. 

                “Ted,” Dan replied, tipping his head in acknowledgment.

                “If you’re here to warn me, someone already beat you to it,” Ted said cautiously.  “I don’t need any more ghosts giving me lectures, thanks.”

                “Wrong on both counts,” Dan said.  “The time for warnings is over, and I’m not a ghost.”  He walked around the back of the sofa to stand in front of Ted’s television, pausing to look it over.  “I mean, I’m sort of a ghost.  I’m not what you would define as a post-living remnant of a human soul.   I’m not living, but I’m also not technically-“

                “Ten words or less,” Ted said automatically, just like he used to do during college when Dan was overcomplicating a new concept.

                Dan turned around, mouth twisted to one side as he thought.  Just like he used to.

                “I’m a spirit of the past,” he said.  “Specifically, your past.”

                “And you’re here to do what, exactly?” Ted asked, crossing his arms.  “Teach me the true meaning of Christmas?  I’m Jewish.”

                “Just here to take you on a trip down memory lane,” Dan responded.  He snapped his fingers and the whole room appeared to ripple and shiver like it was melting.  Ted made to grab at the arms of his recliner, but his hands only plunged for one dizzying moment through the chair before it dematerialized completely and left him floating, suspended in midair.

                The room gave one last shudder before solidifying as a completely different place.  Ted was still hovering, which gave him a birds-eye view of the oddly familiar room. 

                The room was large, but plainly decorated.  No paintings or pictures hung on the walls, which were painted dull beige.  A fireplace sat in the corner, clearly never used.  Two large white sofas were arranged perpendicular to one another in close proximity to a large television.  Though the T.V. was huge, Ted observed, it wasn’t actually a flat screen, though this was disguised by the entertainment system shelf it was sitting on. 

                “This is Booster’s old place,” Ted said suddenly, twisting to look at Dan, who was floating a few feet behind him.  “Back when he lived in that big mansion.”

                “Not bad,” Dan (or the spirit wearing Dan’s body?) said, floating over to run a finger over the fireplace mantle.  Ted frowned.

                “I always though the place was too big,” he admitted.  “For Booster, at least.  He kept it so sterile; it practically looked like a display model.”

                “Speak of the devil,” Dan said, as Booster bustled into the room, Skeets zooming behind him. 

                It was a good thing that Ted’s floatation wasn’t under his control, because he almost certainly would have crashed to the floor.  Booster was young, his face smooth and eyes bright.  He had none of that quiet fatigue that Ted now saw in his face when he thought nobody was looking.  He was wearing civvies: a pair of acid-wash jeans and a black tank-top.  Booster flopped on the sofa, grinning lazily, and Ted actually felt his heart ache at the sight.

                “You got everything?” Booster called out, and Ted was horrified to see his younger self come walking through the door, balancing a bowl of popcorn and several VHS tapes.

                “I don’t know why the guest has to carry everything,” past-Ted grumbled, dumping the tapes on the second sofa and then carefully setting down the popcorn. 

                “I was in pretty good shape then,” Ted observed in surprise.  He was also wearing one of his favorite old outfits- a white dress shirt with a bright red vest topped with a worn newsboy hat.  “God, I miss that hat.  I wish Bea hadn’t set it on fire.”

                “She may have done you a favor,” Dan said, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

                Meanwhile, past-Ted was fussing with the VCR while Booster carefully ate one piece of popcorn at a time.

                “All this outdated tech is really beyond me,” Booster said.  “The holidays too, really.”

                “You don’t have Christmas in the future?” past-Ted asked, setting the VCR clock so that it would stop flashing 12:00 over and over.  “I know you’re an atheist, but plenty of people who aren’t Christian celebrate Christmas in this century.”

                “We sort of have Christmas,” Booster said, trying to hit Skeets with a piece of popcorn.  “I mean, we have a big holiday around this time of year.  It’s called Amantoj Tago.  It’s kind of like…. A holiday for lovers, I guess?”

                “Like in Japan?” past-Ted said, finally satisfied with the television and coming back to sit next to Booster on the sofa.  He took a huge handful of popcorn. 

                “Probably not,” Booster said, hesitantly.  “It’s… hard to explain.  It has a lot of cultural significance to married couples, but pretty much not to anyone else.  I never celebrated it, obviously, and my parents weren’t together, so….”

                “Okay, this opening scene is great,” past-Ted interrupted him eagerly. “Look in the corner; you can totally see a boom mic.”

                “This was the first Christmas we spent together,” Ted murmured, watching on with mixed feelings.  “God, if I could just tell my past self some things… Maybe I could have spared myself all this stupid heartache over Booster.”

                “Would you really, though?” Dan asked.  “You’d stop yourself from being his friend?”

                “No,” Ted said, horrified.  “Of course I wouldn’t.  No, Boost is-  He’s my best friend.  We got each other through some really awful shit.  We’d probably both be dead without each other.”  He waved a hand at the two sitting on the couch.  “Hell, even at this point.  I just kind of knew that we were going to be best friends.  Even then.”

                “What would you say, then?” Dan asked, voice gentle.

                “Just… not to fall in love with him,” Ted said hopelessly, and then had to wince and cover his face for a moment.  “I’ve never said it out loud before.   That I’m-  ugh.”

                “Would it be possible,” Dan continued on, “for you to be his friend without falling in love?”

                Ted watched his younger self: the way he jabbed Booster in the ribs with his elbow excitedly, the way he and Booster laughed together and repeated the cheesy lines in unison.  The way Booster’s face lit up, and how past-Ted kept sneaking looks at his smile when Booster was enraptured by the television. 

                “No,” he said, surprised to find himself a bit hoarse.  “No, I… I wonder if I wasn’t already a little bit in love back then, too.”  He looked despairingly at Dan.  “But Dan, I just don’t know if I can stand the pain of pining after him like this.  It’s pathetic.”

                “Then stop pining,” Dan said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world- which had suddenly gone dizzy and twisted.

                And then Ted was lost to the darkness again.

\------------------------

                Ted awoke back in his apartment and staring himself in the face.  For a strange second, he blearily wondered how a mirror had gotten in front of him.  Then the other Ted- or Blue Beetle, because he was in costume- grinned, and Ted remembered that his life was doing some very strange things the past few hours.

                He sat up in the armchair and looked Blue Beetle over.

                “You couldn’t have made yourself look a little thinner?” he said, finally.  Beetle shrugged.

                “I’m the Ghost of Blue Beetles Present, not the Ghost of Self Esteem,” he responded.  “Can I skip straight to the part where I take us to another place, or do you have a few more complaints/questions?”

                Ted shrugged despairingly, which the Beetle apparently took as a ‘no’, because the world began to go fuzzy and out of focus.

                The sounds cleared up first, and Ted was suddenly being assaulted by cheery Christmas music.  Then the smells of delicious food, making his stomach grumble, and finally, as if a dial was being turned, the rest of the room sharpened into focus.

                It was Booster’s apartment, Ted realized, and Booster was in the kitchen fussing over a tray of sugar cookies.  Ted was surprised to see a turkey sitting on the counter, which smelled absolutely incredible.  Skeets was hovering around Booster’s head, a little headband with felt reindeer antlers affixed to him.  Booster was wearing a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

                “You could always put the turkey back in the oven,” Skeets said.  “Then you could keep it warm until Mr. Kord arrives.”

                Booster was meticulously trying to draw Superman’s emblem on one of the cookies.  He looked absolutely furious.

                “If Mr. Kord arrives at all,” he snapped.  “I don’t know why I ever bother making big plans, Skeets.  They always fall through.  I should have known better.  All this effort wasted.”

                Booster’s hands clenched around the icing pipette and a huge glob of yellow icing covered what little progress he had made.  He stood back, jaw clenched, and stared at the tray of cookies for a moment, before silently picking it up and dumping the contents in the kitchen garbage can.

                “Booster?” Skeets asked, nervously.

                Booster moved over to the turkey and dumped that into the garbage as well.

                “Forget it,” Booster said.  He threw his hands up and walked to the fridge to pull out a beer.  “I wanted things to be different.  I wanted to have a nice dinner with Ted and talk things over, but that’s clearly not happening.”

                “It’s only eight thirty,” Skeets said, almost visibly wilting in the face of Booster’s disappointment and anger.  “There’s still time.  He might change his mind.”

                Booster said nothing, but took a long pull from his beer bottle.

                “Shame to waste that food,” the Blue Beetle said, hovering next to Ted.  “Guess he really wasn’t joking about those sugar cookies.  That’s kind of sad.”

                “Please,” Ted snorted.  “You can’t really be falling for this.”  He waved a hand at Booster, who was still sulking and leaning against the counter.  “He does this spiel after every break-up.  It’s always ‘Oh, Ted, I was such a jerk.  I’m so sorry I let our friendship fall to the side while I was busy getting laid, but now I want to really put time and effort into things with my best friend in the whole world.’  Then he spends a few months trying to make up for things, gets bored or horny or _whatever_ , and starts dating some new model/actress/reality star.  And the whole thing starts over again.”

                “Right, yes,” Beetle said dryly.  “He definitely cooks you a turkey and bakes cookies after every break-up.  Don’t lie to me, Ted.  I’m you.  Sort of.”

                “So what am I supposed to do?” Ted snapped.  “None of this is my fault.  I never asked him to do this.  I didn’t even know he did!  There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to celebrate a holiday I don’t even believe in after a shitty day at work.”

                “You’ve had a lot of shitty days at work,” Beetle said.  “That never stopped you from hanging out with Booster before.  It always made you feel better.  It’s almost like you’re actually avoiding Booster for a completely different reason, huh?” 

                They stared at one another for a moment, the Beetle’s eyes almost laughing behind the goggles.  It was absolutely infuriating, and Ted suddenly understood all the times his teammates had complained about his sense of humor.

                “Oh, come on,” Ted hissed angrily.  “Are you serious right now?  Is this the point of all of this?  My big spiritual epiphany is just that I should be doing Christmas Eve with Booster because otherwise he’ll feel bad?”

                “This journey is about regrets, and you know that,” Beetle answered, rolling his eyes.  “I’m just saying that maybe, down the line?  You might regret doing this.”

                “You know what I really regret?” Ted said, irritably.  “I _regret_ every stupid night I have to spend listening to Booster complain about his love life.  I _regret_ that I don’t have the common sense to get a new best friend that won’t drop me like a hot potato for months at a time, and  I _especially_ _regret_ that that I always let him off the hook for that because I’m so pathetically eager for his attention.”

                “Touchy,” Beetle muttered, backing away.  “Okay, fine.  I get the picture.”

                Booster, who had apparently downed the entire beer in the meantime, got up, tossed his beer in the recycling, and unrolled his sleeves.

                “Skeets,” he said, voice weary, “do I have any standing invitations for tomorrow?”

                “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Skeets said in an overly cheery manner.  “You were invited to a Christmas party by that older (and might I add wealthy) woman you met the other day.  A Miss-“

                “Fine,” Booster interrupted.  “I’ll go.”

                “You… will?” Skeets asked hesitantly.  “You didn’t seem to especially care for her.  You said she was a bit old for your taste.  Are you sure?”

                “I’m sure,” Booster said.  He rubbed his temples, and there was that tired expression that made him look almost ten years older.  “It’s time to move on, Skeets.”  He tapped the counter with his knuckles suddenly, as if confirming his decision, and then left for his bedroom.

                Skeets remained behind, hovering in the kitchen.  His fans whirred in confusion.

                “See?” Ted said, bitterly.  “He’s already moving on to the next distraction.”

                “Hmm,” the Beetle said, noncommittally. 

                “He’s right,” Ted said, chest feeling heavy.  “It’s time to move on.  I can’t keep doing this to myself.  If nothing changes, I’ll just end up being in my seventies and still pining after him.  I’m done.”

                “You could just stop pining,” Beetle offered, and Ted turned to glare at him when the world went fuzzy, and then numb.

                Darkness overtook Ted again.

\-----------------------

                Ted woke up in his apartment for the fourth time and idly come to the conclusion that he hated his life.

                Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked at his final visitor for the night.

                The visitor looked… frankly terrifying.  His armor was deep blue and black and seemed to cover his entire body seamlessly.  The pattern on his chest was certainly suggestive of the costume that Ted wore, but what appeared to be an actual giant scarab was hooked around the man’s body with painful tightness.  Even his face was alien, with no visible nose and yellow eyes that burned alive in the dark room. 

                “Well,” Ted said nervously, actually feeling afraid for the first time all night.  “Is this the part where the silent phantom directs me to my grave?”

                “Oh, God, I’m sorry!” The Blue Beetle threw his hands up in apology, and Ted blinked.  His voice was surprisingly young, and the armor seemed somehow flexible, and capable of allowing expressions to show through on his face.  “I was trying to think of what to say.  I didn’t mean to creep you out.”

                “You’re the Ghost of Beetles Future, huh?” Ted asked, getting up so he could do a quick circle around the Beetle and look at his get-up more closely.  “Trippy.  Definitely not something I designed.  Did you make this?”

                “No?” Beetle responded, lifting his arms so Ted could get a better look at the way the Scarab on his back was looped around him.  “I mean, technically, kind of?  But also no?”  He tilted his head for a moment, and then muttered.  “I don’t think I’m allowed to tell him.  No, I don’t know how this whole dream ghost thing works.  Shut up, we have a job to do.”

                “Uh….huh,” Ted said, stepping back.  “You talk to yourself a lot?”

                “Yes,” Beetle said, firmly.  “Sorry.”

                They stared at each other for a moment.

                “Are… we going to the future now?” Ted asked.

                “Oh, right!” Blue Beetle said, snapping his fingers.  “Sorry, yeah, let me just-“

                He clapped his hands twice, and this time, Ted decided to close his eyes and save himself the disorientating nature of trip altogether.

                When he opened his eyes, he found himself floating in front of his own headstone.  Booster was standing next to him, shivering a little in the snow.  Ted turned, horrified, to look at the Blue Beetle.  Beetle shrugged apologetically. 

                “Silent phantom? Not so much.  The grave part was right,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry, Ted.”

                Ted looked numbly at Booster, who was now crouching down and dusting a bit of snow off the top of the headstone.

                “Hey, buddy,” Booster said, so quietly that Ted had to float closer.   “Merry Christmas.  I miss you.”  He took a deep breath, as though gathering his thoughts.  “I just wanted to say, that, you know.  I’m sorry.  I know I say that to you a lot, but I’m sorry about how things were with the whole Gladys thing.  We should have spent our last years together, not fighting over petty shit.”

                “I don’t understand,” Ted said, desperately.  “Why am I dead?  How did this happen?  Was it my heart?”  He looked to the Blue Beetle, who shrugged.

                “The future is still in flux,” he said, cryptically.  “I don’t know if this is something that can be changed.  I just know that I was supposed to bring you here to show you what might happen if nothing changes.”

                “What am I supposed to change?” Ted pleaded.  “How does spending Christmas with Booster stop me from dying?” 

                “I don’t think that’s what this is about,” Beetle said, frowning, and for a moment Ted was distracted by the way his armor _actually creased at his forehead_.  “Maybe it’s more along the lines of… what could you do tonight that might change the course of your life enough to prevent this future?”  He shook his head.  “What did the other Beetles say?”

                “They said to stop pining,” Ted said.  “As if it was something I could just turn off.”

                Booster, who had been meticulously removing all the snow from the lettering on the headstone, gave it one last gentle pat and sat back on his heels. 

                “Anyway,” he said, voice tight.  “I just wanted to say that I love you.  Always have.  Always will.  Wish I could have said it to your face.”

                “Stop… pining,” Ted said in disbelief.  He turned to look at the Blue Beetle, who actually looked just as stunned as him.  “They meant that I didn’t _have_ to pine.”  He floated over and grabbed Beetle by the shoulders, excitedly.  “I have to go to Booster’s place!  Wake me up!”

                “I, uh, don’t exactly know how to do that,” Beetle said.  “Let me just try to-“  He waved his hands in the air as if dissipating smoke, and everything began to melt away.  Ted felt the body under his hands softening and disappearing, and then with a jolt-

\----------------

                Ted bolted out of sleep, hands gripping the side of his armchair.  The apartment was silent.  Across from him, the television blaring infomercials.  He checked his phone.  It was 8:45.

\------------------

                Half an hour later, Ted was knocking on Booster’s door and clutching a paper bag of greasy fast food.

                Booster opened the door in his pajama pants (Booster Gold branded, of course) and a black tank-top.

                “Ted?” He said in surprise and no small amount of pleasure.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you weren’t coming, I-“

                “I had this crazy dream,” Ted said, pushing past Booster and into the apartment.  “I called in a favor with J’onn to get him to teleport me here, because I just had to see you.”

                “Okay,” Booster said slowly, closing the front door and crossing his arms.  “What’s in the bag?”

                “I brought some food over,” Ted said, and Booster’s eyes flickered guiltily over to his kitchen.  “It’s just something cheap and fast.”  He set the bag down on Booster’s coffee table.

                “What the hell kind of dream did you have, Ted?” Booster asked.  “You seem, uh… agitated.”

                Ted opened his mouth to explain everything, and suddenly found that his memories of the dream had quietly faded away and settled to the tip of his tongue.  He closed his eyes and tried to summon it back, but all he could remember was a cold touch on his face and burning yellow eyes.  Then the words “stop pining” floated by, and he was renewed with a sense of purpose.

                “I don’t remember it,” he said.  “Just bits and pieces.  But I woke up and I just felt like I needed to be here.”

                “Well, take your coat off,” Booster said, “and your boots, so you can stop dripping snow all over my hardwood floor.”

                Ted shrugged his coat off and hung it on the coathook before getting to work wrangling his boots off. 

                “Listen, Booster,” he said, as he struggled.  “We’ve been through a lot, right?”

                “I’d say so,” Booster said, bemused.  “Comas, fights, working with Guy Gardner-“

                “What I’m trying to say is,” Ted interrupted, “even if this isn’t a good idea, I think we’ll probably make it through.”  He set his boots down, stepped over, and pulled Booster down into a kiss.

                Booster startled and then actually seemed to melt into the kiss, arms slipping around Ted’s waist and pulling him closer in.  His lips were burning hot against Ted’s skin, which was cold from being outside in the snow.  The apartment still smelled like freshly baked cookies, and Ted honestly couldn’t think of a more perfect moment in the world, when his feet began to lift off the floor.  He broke off the kiss and looked down.

                “Booster,” he said gently.  “Be careful or we’re going to hit the ceiling.”  Booster blushed furiously, and the two of them descended until their feet were on the floor again.

                “You’re not going to believe me,” Booster said, shakily, “but I was actually hoping tonight would end like this.  I had these big plans to tell you over a candlelight dinner.”

                “Guess we’ll have to settle for burgers and beers,” Ted said, unable to stop a huge grin from spreading across his face.  “You hungry?”

                “Not at all,” Booster admitted.  “You?”

                “Nope,” Ted said cheerfully.  “Bedroom?”

                “Bedroom,” Booster said firmly, and he took Ted by the hand and led him down the hallway.

                “Hello, Mr. Kord,” Skeets said politely, as they passed him by.

                “Hi, Skeets,” Ted said.  Booster was holding his hand and taking him to his bedroom, and they had _kissed_ , and everything about this night was perfect and surreal.

                Then suddenly they were there, and Booster shut the door behind him and started pulling off Ted’s tie and dress shirt.   Ted’s mouth went dry.

                “Wait,” he said, in between the soft , eager kisses Booster was pressing to his mouth.  “Boost, I’m not-  You’re in much better shape than I am, so don’t-“

                “Teddy,” Booster said, exasperated.  “There has literally not been a single time in our lives that I have not thought your body was attractive.”  He stepped back and pulled off his own tank-top, and Ted ran his fingers appreciatively down Booster’s sculpted abs.  Booster shivered at his touch and pulled him backwards to the bed.

                “Even when I couldn’t fit into the costume?” Ted said, doubtfully.  Booster rolled his eyes and pushed him onto the bed, crawling on top of him and kissing him with ferocity.

                “ _Especially_ when you couldn’t fit into the costume,” Booster growled.  “Ted, no one in the future looks like you.  Nobody.”

                “Is this some kind of fetish that I should be concerned about?” Ted asked, and then Booster was unzipping his fly and tugging his pants off and breathing suddenly became difficult.

                “I am going to blow you now,” Booster said, palming Ted’s dick, “and you are going to stop having a self-esteem crisis until I’m done.”

                “Holy shit,” Ted squeaked.  “Okay.”  Booster  pulled Ted’s boxer down and pumped Ted’s cock a few times, which was already hard and dripping.  “I’m not going to last very long.”

                “I think we’ve both waited long enough,” Booster said, breathing hard, and then he took Ted into his mouth.

                Booster’s mouth was hot and wet and absolutely incredible, and Ted moaned without meaning to.  He reached down with trembling hands and curled his fingers into Booster’s hair as his head bobbed up and down eagerly.

                “You’re so perfect,” Ted hissed.  “Beautiful , and perfect, and I love you so much.”

                He was immediately mortified that he had said it, but then Booster looked up at him through his lashes and fucking _moaned_ happily, and Ted was coming harder than he had in years. 

                When it was over, Booster was humming smugly and kissing his way up Ted’s chest, erection rather obviously tenting his pajama pants.

                “Take these off,” Ted murmured, pulling at the waistband, and Booster obliged.  Ted was both unsurprised and incredibly happy to find that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

                He took Booster in his hand, saw how Booster shuddered and bucked into his touch, and (for not the first time that night) felt emboldened.

                “Come for me?” He said sweetly, and Booster whimpered, bit his lip, and did so.  He leaned down and kissed Ted one more time, soft and slow, before resting his forehead on Ted’s shoulder.

                “Next time, we’re both going to last longer, I promise,” Booster said, exhausted. 

                Ted reached for the tissues on the bedside table and wiped himself off while Booster slid off of him and curled up by his side.

                “Who cares?” Ted said, tossing the tissue in the general direction of the garbage can and chuckling when Booster grumbled.  “I’m just happy there’s going to _be_ a next time.”

                “Skeets,” Booster called out.  “Clear my schedule for the next week.  Ted and I have some catching up to do.”  He nestled closer into Ted’s body warmth.  “I don’t know what kind of crazy dream you had, Ted,” he said sleepily, “but I hope you keep having them.”

                “Merry Christmas,” Ted said, yawning.  “In the morning, let’s leave a bag of coal on Guy’s doorstep.  Just for kicks.”

                “God bless us, everyone,” Booster agreed. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading my gay fic about ted's Christmas time gay crisis  
> hit me up at shibascarf.tumblr.com  
> all comments very loved and thought of and appreciated  
> it keeps me going when my job threatens to kill the creative spirit


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